Chapter 33
SADIE
“What’s in the bag?” I glance over my shoulder to the giant garbage bag sitting in the backseat of the car.
Nash’s mouth curls into a mischievous smile. “It’s a surprise.”
“Can you at least tell me why we’re dressed in snow clothes? You know I can’t go sledding, right? I have a traumatic brain injury.”
“Don’t worry”—he squeezes my knee, sending a thrill shooting up my leg—“it’s not sledding.”
He turns the car into Clift Park, and I see the crowd of people standing around.
“The snowman-building contest?”
“We’re going to destroy this thing.” Signature cockiness rounds out his grin. “Queen Victoria is not going to know what hit her.”
“Queen Victoria?”
“Yeah, she’s the judge who decides who builds the best snowman.” He climbs out of the car, gathering all our supplies.
I join him by the trunk, where he pulls out a ladder. “How did you even know about this?”
“I follow A Dickens Christmas Facebook page. They have the entire schedule of events posted there.” His words are matter-of-fact, as if I should already know all this as a local.
“Never pictured you as a small-town guy.” I scratch my head, realizing I have absolutely zero information to back that up with.
His flirty eyes shoot to me. “How do you picture me?”
“You can’t turn snowman building into a sexual thing.”
“Watch me.” He pats my butt as he walks past, heading for the registration table.
I stand frozen, my mouth gaping, eyes blinking.
Nash swings his body around, the full force of his charming smile slamming me in my chest. His shoulders lift even as he carries the bag of supplies in one hand and the ladder in the other.
“Let’s go, babe!” he calls, walking backward a few paces before turning around again.
I have no idea why Nash manhandling that heavy ladder with one hand is so dang attractive, but it is.
My feet stumble forward, following after him.
“You’re on one today.” I push the sticks Nash brought into the sides of the snowman.
“What does that mean?” he grunts as he rolls the head through the snow.
“You’re extra flirty.”
“Nah, this is how I always am.” His head lifts, showcasing a goofy grin, and somehow, I know he’s telling the truth.
“Did I like how flirty you are?”
“What do you think?” Another big smile accompanies his words.
I’m guessing life with Nash was full of fun, playfulness, teasing, banter, and lots of flirting. I can see why I’d like that, be happy even. There’s a vibrance about him, an energy that’s addicting.
He rolls the ball to my feet. “Now we have to get the head on the body.”
“I think you overestimated how big to make this thing.” I look down at the giant snowball and then around at the other pairs building regular-sized snowmen. When finished, ours will be the biggest by far. “Is this even possible?”
“Sure. That’s what the ladder is for.”
Dragging it over in front of our snowman’s body, he shifts it into an A-frame. Slowly, Nash rolls the head up the side of the ladder. The rungs shave parts of the round circle, but overall, it’s mostly an effective method. Once at the top, he lifts the ball on top of the other two giant circles.
A victorious smile paints his mouth, and both hands raise high above his head, pumping up and down like Rocky. He gives a big whoop, still pumping his arms as he glances around the park at the other builders.
I bite my lip, trying to hold in my laughter.
He’s cute.
A man who doesn’t take himself too seriously.
Two feet hit the ground as he hops down from the top of the ladder. “Now we just need to put the stuff on his face. Accessorize him.”
I dig through the bag, holding up three cans of Spaghetti-Os. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with these. You didn’t bring the typical snowman items.”
“These are our buttons.” He grabs one of the cans from my hands, turning it so the metal top is facing forward, then pushes it into the snowman’s body, spinning it round and round until the can tunnels its way into the snow. “They have sentimental value.”
“Spaghetti-Os? Really?”
“Really.”
“Okay.” I reach into the bag, pulling out the classic coal for eyes, ropes of licorice for the mouth, a pipe, a scarf, and a Cubs hat. This one, Nash doesn’t have to tell me. I know enough about our past to know the significance of the Cubs hat. “I’m assuming this is for his head.”
“Yep.”
“Won’t the hat be too small?”
“It'll be perfect.” He moves the ladder away from the snowman and puts it right in front of me. “Climb on my shoulders, and you can do the honors.”
My brows drop in suspicion. “Your shoulders? Why not use the ladder?”
“What would be the fun in that?”
His flirtatious eyes dare me to play along with his game, and there’s no reason for me not to. I need to try and build my connection with him.
“Fine.”
Nash holds the ladder steady as I climb the first few steps until I’m tall enough to swing my leg around him. Once sitting firmly on his shoulders, I lock my legs around his body for support. His hands go to my thighs, holding me to him. That same thrill from when he grabbed my leg in the car dances up my body.
“Do not drop me!” I warn as he slowly walks us toward our masterpiece of snow.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
I spend the next few minutes placing all the accessories until I’m satisfied.
“He looks good! Our little Cubsman.”
“We’re totally going to win.”
“We probably will. And you’ll have to tell little six-year-old Cindy Lou Who over there that two grown adults took her trophy.”
“Eh, she’ll live.”
Nash slowly bends his knees, giving me a chance to get off his shoulders, but just as my foot touches the ground, he loses his balance, sending us both falling backward into the snow, laughing.
Before I can react, Nash flips around and crawls over to me. The weight of his body presses against mine as our legs tangle together. His green eyes scan my face as his soft lips lift into a smile. He brings his hand to his mouth, using his teeth to pull off his glove—the action oddly sexy. He takes the glove from his mouth and chucks it to the side.
The back of his hand gently brushes down the side of my face. My breathing gets heavier, moving in tandem with the wild heartbeats inside my chest. I don’t know what his next move will be, but I want it no matter what it is.
“I love your freckles.” His finger plays dot to dot on my face between a few of my more prominent flecks. I close my eyes, relishing in the feel of his touch.
Warm lips press against the corner of my mouth. I peek my eyes open, catching his own half-closed gaze as he slowly moves to kiss the crow's feet at the edge of my eye.
Is Nash an outlier—a man so sweet and perfect that he’s too good to be true?
Or does he just love me that much?
I arch my back, pressing my body into his, wanting, needing to feel the flame between us. My chin lifts, coaxing his mouth to mine.
Instead of a kiss, my lips are met with a smile. His tongue clicks in mocking disapproval.
“This is a family-friendly event. I don’t want Cindy Lou Who’s dad to have to cover his daughter's eyes. I mean, what do you think this is? The Chicago Christmas tree on our first date? You think we can just make out in front of all these people?”
I purse my lips together, hitting his arm playfully before pushing his body off. “You’re the one who laid on top of me.”
Nash sits in the snow beside me, shooting me a wicked smile. “Don’t act like you didn’t want me to.”
I turn away, hiding the red blush creeping up my cheeks.
But he’s right.
I wanted everything he was offering, and that thought terrifies me.